


Back From the Grave

by Maroucia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maroucia/pseuds/Maroucia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Sansan Russian Roulette, round 6, on sansaxsandor, LJ. </p><p>After fleeing King’s Landing, Sansa and Sandor are met by wolves in the Riverlands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back From the Grave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FancyKid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKid/gifts).



> Hi, everyone! This fic was written as a fill for a prompt by fancykidmd as part of the sansan Russian Roulette on the sansaxsandor community on LiveJournal. So here’s the prompt:
> 
> Weeks after escaping KL, Sansa and Sandor are lost in the Riverlands. Sansa is regretting it all and still unable to put her trust in Sandor - until one night when they are found by a pack of wolves led by none other than Nymeria and Lady! Sansa and Lady reunite and it soon becomes apparent that Sandor is the reason her wolf is still alive. How did he manage it? Why did he do it? Why didn't he tell her? And most importantly, how will Sansa react once she understands what he did for her?
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! There’s nothing serious about this little fic and it has not been betaed.

“What’s that noise, my lord?” the little bird asked nervously, her eyes wide with dread, after a series of fast cracks was heard coming from the thick woods around them.

 

The howling of wolves had resounded through the forest some time before and Sandor had no doubt these were the same beasts coming their way. The prospect of having to fight off a pack of wolves was certainly not one he was looking forward to and yet even as he prepared himself to perhaps face death minutes from now, he still found himself annoyed at the little bird for being so bloody formal with him as usual.

 

The morning after they had escaped from the Red Keep together on the night of the battle of the Blackwater, Sandor had told her to stop calling him ‘my lord’. He was no buggering lord to begin with after all and since they weren’t at court anymore and that decorum in the middle of the woods was as useless as nipples on a breastplate, she might as well address him by his name. Though the request had made her visibly uneasy, the girl hadn’t objected at the time, however as of now more than a fortnight later, she still had not done it. That soft voice of hers was apparently too precious to be wasted on something so vile as his bloody name.

 

Standing from the log he had been sitting on, Sandor unsheathed his sword and faced the dark forest.  “Come, little bird. Put yourself behind me. You’ll be safest there,” he bid her.

 

The girl nodded and ran in between him and the campfire. By the look he glimpsed on her face, there was no doubting she was terrified – and with reason. _How she must regret having fled with me_ , Sandor mused, the corner of his mouth twitching. He was almost certain now that had she had time to think it over and not been so blinded by his promise of taking her back to her family, the little bird would never have willingly followed him. Foolishly, Sandor had at first believed her agreement to be a sign that she trusted him, yet he had quickly realised how little chance he had of that ever happening. Judging by the way she tensed whenever he approached her and barely ever spoke to him unless he had asked her a question, it was obvious she would never be at ease with him. How pathetic he had been to hope otherwise.

 

The girl had only just hid behind him when the noises grew even nearer and the shapes of two enormous creatures came out of the woods.

 

“Seven bloody hells!” Sandor cursed at seeing them under the firelight.

 

These weren’t ordinary wolves but the Stark sisters’ buggering direwolves. There was no way he didn’t recognise them with the size they had reached. Regular wolves never got as big as ponies.

 

Their ears flipped back, both direwolves had their hackles raised and were snarling at him. _They’ve gone feral,_ Sandor thought to himself, crouching in a defensive stance with his sword held before him. How ironic was it that they were soon going to die under the fangs of the girl’s own sigil when it had been from the lions they had sought to flee.

 

 “Should’ve killed you when I had a chance to. Now look at you both. As twice as big and not even bloody grateful for what I did!” Sandor spat. In that, they were much like the little bird, the man reflected bitterly.

 

His words attracted Sansa’s attention and she poked her head from behind him.

 

“Lady? Lady, it’s you? And Nymeria! Oh!” she cried.

 

Sandor’s attention being entirely on the two snarling she-wolves, he only noticed too late that the girl had ran from behind him. In less than a split second, she had already rejoined the two beasts and was throwing her arms around the neck of the smallest one. _What a stupid, stupid little bird!_ he cursed her inwardly in total panic, yet even before he had time to run to the girl’s rescue, the direwolf sat down and started moaning and squirming like a puppy.

 

“No! Stop it, Nymeria. He’s with me!” the little bird demanded the other she-wolf when she didn’t cease snarling at him and though the later remained on her guards, she hid her fangs and relaxed.

 

For a moment, Sandor was totally dumbstruck. All he could do was stare down at the little bird and the two direwolves, suddenly almost ready to believe in the old magic of the North he had so often heard about.

 

“How… how can Lady be alive? I thought you… that Queen Cersei had commanded you to…” the girl asked, breaking the silence.

 

“She did ask me to kill your wolf. But I didn’t obey and I let her go instead. Didn’t have the heart to do it,” Sandor admitted quietly.

 

And it was the truth indeed. When the queen has ordered him to finish the little bird’s direwolf, the man had been loath to comply. He knew the beast was not to blame for Joffrey’s injury, that she was as well behaved as her mistress. But most of all, he had known how dear she was to the little bird and for some reason, he had not wanted to kill something she loved.

 

With tears in her eyes, Sansa looked up at him, a small yet genuine smile on her lips. “Thank you! Thank you so much… Sandor.”

 

 _Sandor,_ the man repeated to himself, smiling back at her. There was hope for him yet.


End file.
